The Last Holdout
by MagicSwede1965
Summary: Peter finally meets the woman of his dreams...but no one believes he's serious about her!
1. Chapter 1

The Last Holdout  
  
(This story takes place in 1994, four years after "The Bradys" ended. All three original Brady sisters are here - no Leah Ayres or Jennifer Runyon or Geri Reischl, the "substitute Brady girls"!)  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Whew, what a blowout." Dr. Greg Brady yawned widely. "Thank God it's over!"  
  
It was approaching 2:30 AM, and he was sitting with four other men around the table in Mike and Carol Brady's kitchen. At six in the evening of the previous day, Cindy Brady had married Scott Jensen and the reception had ended less than an hour ago. Now Scott and Cindy were on their way to their honeymoon in Sydney, Australia, and Greg sat with his two younger brothers, Peter and Bobby, and their brothers-in-law, Wally Logan and Philip Covington III. Wally had married the Brady boys' sister Marcia, and Phillip Covington had married their sister Jan, on the same day more than ten years before. Marcia and Jan, along with Greg's wife Nora and Bobby's wife Tracy, had gone to bed in exhaustion, leaving the party mess to be cleaned up later.  
  
Bobby grinned. "I warned Scott over and over to think twice before he married Cindy," he cracked. "But there's no getting him to listen - he's had it bad for Cindy ever since high school."  
  
"At least now they're all married off," said Phillip. "Mike and Carol shouldn't have to worry about footing the expenses for any more weddings."  
  
"Aren't you forgetting somebody?" Greg hinted at him.  
  
"Yeah, Pete, when're you gonna join the old Ball 'n' Chain Club?" added Wally, smirking. They all laughed, except for Peter, whose expression looked faraway. "Hey." Wally snapped his fingers in front of Peter's nose, startling him. "Earth to Peter Brady."  
  
"Sorry," Peter said. "I must be more tired than I thought. I'm spacing out."  
  
"What's got you so lost in thought?" Greg asked.  
  
Peter started to say something and then hesitated, leaving room for his brothers and brothers-in-law to exchange knowing looks. Sure enough, Wally jumped right in. "Don't tell me. You saw some hot chick at the wedding and you're all hung up on her."  
  
"What else would be new?" Phillip joked.  
  
"Nobody says 'hot chick' anymore," Bobby snorted, evoking more laughter. "Come to think of it, Pete, you looked pretty spaced out at the wedding and the reception too. Who is she?"  
  
"How do you know it's a woman?" Peter challenged uncomfortably, trying to worm his way out of having to talk about this subject.  
  
"Pete, we know you," Greg said. "We're your brothers. You've had it bad for practically every woman in California since you were at least twelve or thirteen. So 'fess up. Who's the woman?"  
  
Peter hesitated one more time, then turned to Bobby. "Who was that bridesmaid with the blonde hair and green eyes, in the pink dress, carrying the pink roses? She looked related to Scott."  
  
"She is," Bobby told him, immediately recognizing the woman from Peter's description. "She's Scott's younger sister and her name's Christina. Scott told me she just moved back from Boston after she got laid off. Is she the one you're interested in?"  
  
Peter nodded. "I should've gotten her number. Now I'll have to wait till Scott and Cindy get back from Australia."  
  
"She might be in the phone book," Wally said.  
  
"Not if she just moved here," Phillip pointed out. "Anyway, Peter, you have good taste. Even Jan said she was the prettiest of all three bridesmaids." He yawned. "If you'll excuse me, fellows, I'm going to hit the sack. It's past my bedtime."  
  
The Brady brothers and Wally watched him go. "He's barely forty and already he's an old fogey," Wally commented. "I could go on till at least sunrise."  
  
"Well, then, happy partying," said Greg, grinning. "I'm too old to stay up this late. How about you, Bob, ready to pack it in?"  
  
Bobby nodded. "Tracy's probably lying awake waiting for me," he said. He reached for the cane that leaned against the counter beneath the sink and got to his feet. Bobby had made tremendous progress since an accident on the race track four years before had left his spine badly injured. For most of a year he had been confined to a wheelchair, and the process of learning to walk again had been lengthy and painful. His doctors, however, were convinced that one day he'd be walking normally and even running again.  
  
Peter also rose. "I've had enough coffee," he said. "Night, guys." The three brothers left Wally sitting alone at the table, his mouth open with disbelief.  
  
"A whole bunch of old fogies," he muttered to himself and examined the coffee dregs in his cup. "Well, can't let that coffee go to waste."  
  
"Oh yes you can," said a female voice, and Wally found himself staring at his wife, Marcia. Marcia hadn't changed much since they were married; she was still slim and gorgeous, with her cute cleft chin and her enormous blue eyes. "Come on, Wally, it's past your bedtime, too."  
  
"Party pooper," Wally grumbled, but it was easy to see he didn't mind joining his wife. He slipped an arm around her waist as they turned out the light and ambled out of the kitchen.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Bang, bang, bang. Ding-a-ling-a-ling-a-ling. Cindy Brady Jensen groaned and rolled over so she could swat her brand-new husband, Scott, on the arm. "Stop making all that noise."  
  
"It's not me," Scott grunted back. He sounded like a caveman just waking up.  
  
The banging and insistent ringing sounded again, this time accompanied by a shouting voice. "Hey, you lazy bums, get up! I gotta talk to you!"  
  
Cindy sat up, now wide awake. "It's Peter! What's he doing here at this hour?" She jumped out of bed and yanked on her robe, scurrying barefooted to the front door of the cozy 1920s bungalow she and Scott shared. The light was still dim with early morning and she wondered if her brother had awakened their neighbors yet with all his ruckus.  
  
Peter was just raising his fist to pound on the door again when his sister opened it and glared at him. Before he could speak, she demanded, "Do you know what time it is, Peter Brady?"  
  
"Yeah, I know it's five in the morning, but this is urgent. Don't you have to get up for work anyway?" Peter asked.  
  
"Scott and I gave ourselves two days to get over our jet lag before we go back to work," Cindy informed him, "and you just spoiled one of my last days to sleep in. What's the big emergency, and why couldn't it wait till civilized people are out of bed?"  
  
Peter glanced at the houses on either side of them. "Do you mind if I come in? I don't want the neighbors overhearing." Cindy rolled her eyes, stepping aside to let him in.  
  
"You didn't seem too worried about them overhearing when you were yelling at us to get up. For the last time, what's the story?"  
  
"Your bridesmaid," Peter said, deciding he might as well come directly to the point. Cindy closed the door while he continued, "Scott's sister. I asked Bobby about her after the reception, and he told me about her. He said Christina just moved back here from Boston. Is that true?"  
  
"Yeah," Cindy said, frowning. "I suppose you want her phone number."  
  
Peter blinked at her. "How'd you know?"  
  
Cindy rolled her eyes again. "It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure you out, Peter. Not with all the women you've dated since junior high!" She grinned at Peter's disgruntled expression, then grew serious again and studied her brother. "Look, Peter, before you leap into yet another relationship, there are some things you need to know about Christina. First of all, you'll be darned lucky even to get her to go out with you. She got laid off from her job, and her boyfriend in Boston dumped her for another woman, all in the same week. So she's really hurting right now, and I don't think she'll be too receptive to the idea of dating somebody again this soon."  
  
Peter shrugged. "Okay, I'll remember that. I can be a sensitive guy too, you know. What else?"  
  
"Well, Christina's kind of an old-fashioned girl," Cindy said slowly. "I've known her only a month or so myself, but she and I are pretty good friends. She's not the type of woman you usually go for, so if you're really interested in her, you'll have to be a gentleman."  
  
"I'm always a gentleman!" Peter protested indignantly. "And what do you mean, the type of woman I usually go for? What type of woman would that be, exactly?"  
  
"Oh, you know," Cindy said and smirked. "Young, single, gorgeous, skinny . . . chesty. And not too bright most of the time."  
  
"Just a minute," Peter broke in. "What about Kerry, and Valerie, and . . ."  
  
"Okay, okay, so there've been a few exceptions," Cindy conceded. "But you'll notice they didn't work out, and you wound up right back with the bombshells and the bimbos. Trisha, and Katie, and Lisa, and Allison, and Linda, and Suzy . . . oh yeah, and don't forget the twins, Mindy and Mandy. I have to say this for you, Peter, you're an equal-opportunity boyfriend. But Christina doesn't fit into that category. She may be blonde and beautiful, but she's no bimbo. She absolutely won't go in for one of your one-night stands."  
  
Peter guiltily swallowed back the retort he'd been about to make. By and large, Cindy was right about the long string of women he'd dated, from high school through college, the Army, and a succession of assorted jobs. His current position with an environmental-concerns outfit had lasted longer than any other job he'd ever had. And heaven knew he'd dated, or tried to date, every woman who worked in the place (except the receptionist, Mrs. Rasmussen, who he was sure must be at least 75 and never stopped talking about her husband, Mort the hypochondriac). Peter sighed; he really didn't have a whole lot of luck with women, and he wanted very much to change that.  
  
Cindy waited, but when Peter didn't speak, she shrugged. "Okay, I guess you're having second thoughts."  
  
"No," Peter blurted hastily. "I was just thinking. Okay, so Christina's hurting, and she's old-fashioned. Anything else I should know?"  
  
Cindy considered this for a moment, then met her brother's gaze. "Well, maybe one more thing. Don't go pounding on her door at five in the morning," she told him pointedly.  
  
Now it was Peter's turn to roll his eyes. "Okay, okay, I get the hint already. Thanks for the advice." He started for the door.  
  
"Thought you wanted Christina's phone number," Cindy said dryly.  
  
"Oh . . . right," Peter mumbled and waited till she had written it down for him. He tucked the slip of paper into his pocket and turned to her. "Thanks again, Cindy . . . and good night." Grinning at Cindy's exasperated groan, he let himself out and sauntered across the lawn to his car.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
On Monday morning Peter got to work just before 8:00 and was on his way to his desk when he got waylaid by Mrs. Rasmussen. "Peter, thank goodness you're here. We finally got replacements for those six girls who quit last month, and they're all starting today."  
  
"That's nice," said Peter. "Who's training them?"  
  
"You are," Mrs. Rasmussen told him, freezing him in mid-stride. She handed him a piece of paper. "Class starts in an hour, so don't be late and set a bad example for those young ladies." She pinched his cheek as if she were his long-dead grandmother, smiled ingratiatingly and strode back to her desk, her mission accomplished.  
  
"Yeesh," Peter muttered under his breath and glanced at the paper. It was a list of names, presumably of the new employees. Jenny Anderson, Allison Caine (not her again-that's the third time she's signed up for this job! Peter thought), Maura Gray, Heather Greene, Christina Jensen and Bonnie McCauley. Peter stopped cold and stared at the fifth name. Was this the same girl whose phone number he'd had to pry out of Cindy two days ago?  
  
An hour later he had his answer. He'd know that silky golden hair and those emerald eyes anywhere. Christina Jensen sat a little apart from the other trainees, gazing at the handbook all new employees were given on their first day, but occasionally braving a shy glance at the others. Peter's other five "pupils" had all sat around one of the three tables in the room and were chattering like monkeys when he walked into the room. The moment he saw Christina, he knew she was the one he was looking for. She had watched him enter the room, and he smiled at her. Christina offered a bashful return smile and hastily returned her attention to the handbook.  
  
Peter cleared his throat a bit nervously. "Well, ladies, good morning, I'm Peter Brady," he said, and immediately the other five women stopped talking and turned to him. Their faces broke out into wide smiles, and Peter just couldn't help smiling back. They were all gorgeous, without exception. He had never quite understood why so many women who looked like models seemed to want to work here, but he had never seriously questioned it - at least, not till now!  
  
"So you'll be training us this time, Peter," cooed a sultry-looking redhead decked out in a tank top and running shorts, and Peter's smile disappeared. He'd know Allison Caine anywhere too. They'd had a brief fling a couple of years before, and it hadn't ended very well. Allison was one of the few who seemed really hurt when Peter broke things off with her, and to this day she carried a grudge. Just his luck to get stuck training her.  
  
"Yep, looks that way," Peter agreed weakly. Fortunately he had trained several groups of new employees before, so he was able to launch directly into the material with one part of his brain while devoting another section of it to wondering whether Christina Jensen's presence made up for Allison Caine's. He kept glancing at Christina throughout the training class, deciding at great length that if he succeeded in winning her over, it would be worth putting up with Allison.  
  
The class ended at noon for lunch, and when the others headed for the door, Peter managed to catch Christina on her way out. "Excuse me," he said, "you're Christina, aren't you?"  
  
Christina gave him a puzzled stare. "Yes, I am." Her face turned worried. "I'm not flunking out, am I?"  
  
"Oh no, no!" Peter assured her hurriedly. "I just thought . . . well, I was wondering, would you like to have lunch with me? There's a great little Italian place right down the street and they don't take all day about bringing your order . . ." He stopped, afraid he was rambling.  
  
Christina regarded him for a long moment, her delicate face a study in concentration. "You look familiar," she mused. Then she lit up. "Wait, I remember now! You were at Scott's wedding. One of Cindy's brothers, right?"  
  
Peter beamed. "Yeah! I really wanted to talk to you at the reception, but somehow I couldn't seem to get anywhere near enough to you to do that. How about lunch?"  
  
"It sounds good," Christina said. "I love Italian food. I developed a real taste for it when I lived in Boston. Colin and I must have tried every restaurant in the North End . . ." She broke off, her face clouding over. "Well, anyway, let's hurry before lunch hour's over."  
  
Their lunch was very enjoyable, and they spent it getting acquainted. Back at work, Peter said, "I guess you can just sit at one of those empty desks and stuff envelopes this afternoon. But wait . . . before you go . . . could I give you a call sometime?"  
  
Christina hesitated, as if thinking about it, then lifted one shoulder in a tiny shrug and smiled at him. "That might be nice. All right then."  
  
"Great," Peter said happily. "See you later on."  
  
"But Peter," Christina reminded him gently, "don't you want my number?"  
  
"I already - " Peter stopped himself just in time. He could hardly tell Christina he'd gotten her number from Cindy! "Yeah, of course, sorry." That was twice in three days he'd almost walked off without getting that all-important phone number. Oh well. He could always keep both slips of paper as insurance in case he lost one. He whistled to himself as he returned to his desk, unaware of Allison Caine's narrowed glare from across the room. 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"And she actually went to lunch with you, too?" Cindy sounded both amused and disbelieving.  
  
"Why shouldn't she?" Peter demanded.  
  
The family had gathered in the living room at Mike and Carol's house; they were waiting for Jan and Phillip, who had requested that the entire extended Brady clan meet them there so that they could make an announcement. The word that Peter had succeeded in getting a date with Cindy's shy, quiet bridesmaid had spread to the entire family in less than a minute, which didn't surprise Peter in the least. Now that he was the last unmarried adult Brady, everyone else in the family would be focusing eagerly on every move he made around Christina Jensen.  
  
"I just can't believe she talked to you, that's all," Scott Jensen said. Seeing Peter's expression, he held up his hands. "I didn't mean that the way it sounded. It's just that Christina and I are the two youngest of seven kids - we're from an oversized clan just like you - and she's always been a little overshadowed by the rest of us. She's always been bookish and bashful and afraid to talk to people. So it kind of blows my mind that she opened up to you as much as she did. You must really have a way with the women."  
  
Peter nodded, his indignation toward Scott easing. "I see what you mean," he said. "I don't know if I can really say I have a way with women. If I did, I wouldn't be the only single one left."  
  
Mickey Logan, Marcia and Wally's boy, looked up from drawing a motorcycle in painstaking detail. "Hey, Uncle Peter, you're not the only single one left. Me and Kevin and Patty and my dopey sister are still single too, y'know." He grinned and addressed the room in general. "I'M gonna be the last holdout, not Uncle Peter."  
  
"That's for sure," said Jessica Logan, at twelve only a year older than Mickey. "No girl would ever want to marry you!" Everyone laughed at that and Mickey scowled at her.  
  
"I'd never want to marry any old girl!" he shot back at his sister.  
  
"That's enough, you two," Marcia intervened, carrying a tray out of the kitchen in time to catch her children's sparring. "What's keeping Phillip and Jan and Patty?"  
  
"They're fashionably late, of course," joked Carol Brady, sitting on the couch with Mike's arm around her shoulders. At that point Nora and Tracy came in behind Marcia, both bearing trays containing filled coffee cups. Mike and Carol each accepted one with thanks.  
  
"This is almost as good as Alice's coffee," Mike remarked teasingly.  
  
"Hey, I consider that a compliment," Tracy Wagner Brady told him. "Nobody can cook like Alice, but if we're almost as good, it means we're pretty darn good!"  
  
"We'd better be if we're running a catering service," Nora remarked with a chuckle. Nora, Marcia and Tracy had opened The Party Girls four years ago, shortly after Bobby's race-track accident, and it had thrived almost from the beginning. Alice had worked with them for the first two years or so before retiring to San Diego with her husband, Sam Franklin. The business had grown so much that it had moved three times, each time to a larger building than before. By now Marcia and her sisters-in-law had graduated to CEO status and were equal partners, presiding over almost fifty employees.  
  
Nora, Tracy and Marcia continued serving coffee to the rest of the adults while conversations ebbed and flowed around them. Peter regarded his family with a combination of amusement, envy and affection. He'd been about seven when his birth mother, whom he barely remembered anymore, had died of cancer, and ten when his father married Carol Martin. Now, twenty- five years later, he had a hard time imagining his family without Carol as his mother and her three daughters as his sisters. 'Good thing there're still only four grandchildren,' he thought. 'I already need a scorecard to keep up with all the in-laws. . .'  
  
At that point the Covingtons arrived, ushering their eight-year-old daughter Patty in ahead of them. Phillip and Jan had adopted Patty from South Korea when Patty was just four and barely knew any English. Now the adorable little girl was a regular chatterbox and could give as good as she got whenever her cousin Mickey teased her. Patty scampered ahead to greet her grandparents, while Jan and Phillip accepted cups of coffee from Tracy and found places to sit.  
  
"Ah, the guests of honor," Mike said. "Now that everyone's here, let's have your news."  
  
Phillip and Jan looked at each other, faces glowing with some huge secret. Impatiently Peter said, "Come on, you two, we don't want to wait all night!"  
  
Phillip glanced at him and Jan grinned, zeroing in on her brother. "I hear you've lined up the latest in a string of conquests," she said wickedly. "Who's the poor victim this time?"  
  
"Damn it," muttered Peter, wishing he'd kept his mouth shut. "We're not here to talk about me, Jan. I'm not the only one who wants to know what the big secret is."  
  
Fortunately, his relatives broke out with loud agreement, so Jan relented and turned to the group at large. "Okay," she said. "Our family is going to have a new addition soon. Two of them, actually. Phillip and I decided we wanted Patty to be a big sister, so we're adopting twins from China. They should be arriving next week."  
  
Excited congratulations broke out while Peter sat looking on, somehow feeling left out. Of course, Bobby and Cindy were just as childless as he was; but at least they were both married. Peter had to examine this strange new feeling. Never before had he felt compelled to settle down and produce kids the way his siblings were doing. He'd always been perfectly content to play the field, offering platitudes such as "variety is the spice of life" and "so many women, so little time", whenever one of his siblings or parents asked him when he was finally going to settle on one woman.  
  
But it was different now, he realized. The feeling was brand-new and very disquieting. Looking back, Peter decided it must have come about when Cindy got married. He had at least felt as if he had company as long as Cindy was still single. But now that she'd joined the wedded ranks, he had the distinct sensation of having been forgotten and left behind on a sinking ship. Out of the blue, he wondered if Christina felt the same way.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"How wonderful for your sister Jan about her new babies," exclaimed Christina over the phone, three nights later when Peter finally had enough courage to give her a call. "When did she say they're coming here?"  
  
"Next week," Peter said. "They're meeting the plane from Beijing at LAX on Thursday. She said they're twin sisters, and she and Phillip are planning to name them Deborah and Melissa."  
  
"What a funny combination for twins," Christina said.  
  
"Jan says both names have the same meaning," Peter explained. "I guess she and Phillip did some research. Deborah is Hebrew for 'bee', and Melissa is Greek for the same thing."  
  
"That's very pretty," Christina said. Peter thought her voice sounded wistful.  
  
"Yeah, it's cute," he said, unwilling to talk about Jan anymore. "Actually, Christina, the real reason I called is . . . well, I wanted to know if you'd be interested in going out with me sometime. I know all kinds of really nice restaurants, and I'm familiar with all the usual tourist attractions. For that matter, we could even spend a day at Disneyland if you want. Anything's fine."  
  
"Oh," murmured Christina, and there was a long silence on her end. Peter began to squirm. Finally she said, "Could I think about it and get back to you?"  
  
"Sure," Peter agreed, engulfed by disappointment. "You know where I am." He was so discouraged by her response that he hung up without even saying goodbye. 'Okay, okay,' he thought, 'she didn't exactly say no.' But that failed to make him feel any better. In his experience, "Can I get back to you?" was usually the precursor to a "no." He hadn't been turned down all that often, but it had happened, and the experiences had been memorable. Kerry Hathaway, his first serious crush, had been like that. After several misunderstandings, including her thinking for a while that Greg had a crush on her, Peter and Kerry had finally gotten together and dated for a few months before splitting up. 'Whatever happened to her, anyway?' he thought idly. Kerry had been a friend of Jan's, but he didn't know if Jan had kept in touch with her.  
  
The heck with it. Peter decided he might as well go to bed; there wasn't even anything good on TV, as he discovered after browsing through the channels five times. It was going to be interesting to see how Christina reacted to him in tomorrow's training class.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Christina preferred to get to work well before she was supposed to be there. In her view, it was better to be too early than too late. As a result of this policy, she found herself sitting alone in the training room at 7:40, going over the employee handbook again. Or at least, she was trying to. Her thoughts kept wandering off to other subjects, chiefly Peter Brady.  
  
She wasn't sure what to make of Peter, actually. She knew his sister Cindy, and Cindy was a good friend and a genuinely nice person. Christina hadn't really noticed Peter till she'd started training for her new job this week, and then he'd made it a point to come and ask her to have lunch with him. Now she wondered why he'd bothered. How many times had Colin criticized her for her crippling shyness? He'd thought she was a sham, calling her "a model's face hiding a spinster's personality." Colin had been attracted to her for her looks, but once he'd learned how shy and retiring she really was, he'd taken off for the proverbial greener pastures. They'd been going out long enough for Christina to have invested some pretty serious emotion into the relationship. She'd actually believed that for once, a guy was truly interested in her and didn't mind her lack of gregariousness. So much for Colin, she thought bitterly. He was no different from any other guy she'd ever known. Ten to one Peter Brady would be the same, once he got to know her.  
  
"Oh, hi there," exclaimed a voice. Christina snapped her head up, startled out of her thoughts, and focused on the redhead standing in the doorway. "Gracious, but you looked serious. Are you afraid you won't pass the exam?"  
  
"There's an exam?" blurted Christina, alarmed.  
  
Allison Caine laughed and strolled into the room, taking a seat at Christina's table. "Of course not. I was only pulling your leg." She gazed curiously at Christina. "How come you always sit at this same table all by yourself? We don't bite, you know."  
  
Christina shrugged uncomfortably. "There are only five chairs at your table anyway," she said.  
  
Allison appeared to think that over. "You have a point there," she said. "But you could always move a chair over to our table. We'd love to have you."  
  
Somehow Christina doubted that, but she only offered a halfhearted smile. Allison shrugged in her turn and slouched in her chair, folding her hands over her stomach and assuming a thoughtful expression. "Say, Christina, do you have an in with our teacher or something?"  
  
Christina stared at her in confusion. "No, why?"  
  
"Well, I did notice that Peter took you out to lunch Monday. I just thought you might know each other or something." Allison sat up and regarded Christina intently. "Do you?"  
  
"Not exactly," Christina hedged, completely perplexed by this girl and her persistent questions. "I mean, my brother married his sister less than a month ago, and I guess we met at the wedding, but there were so many people there that I couldn't really remember everyone." Out of nowhere, a glorious sensation of annoyance flooded her, giving her the courage to drill Allison with a hard, suspicious stare. "Tell me, why are you so interested in whether I know Peter or not?"  
  
Looking slightly startled, Allison reared back in her chair. "Whoa," she exclaimed. "Sorry if I offended you, sweetie. But you have to believe me when I tell you, I'm just doing this for your own good. You'd best watch out for Peter, Christina. He's got quite a reputation."  
  
"Oh?" inquired Christina coolly. "What sort of reputation?" Maybe she'd seen too many movies about catty southern belles, because that's what Allison suddenly reminded her of, minus the accent.  
  
Allison leaned over the table in Christina's direction, her face deadly earnest. "Peter Brady is a womanizer," she announced. "He's dated pretty much every woman who's ever worked here. Just ask any of them. Better yet, ask Mrs. Rasmussen. She's been here longer than anyone else. I really think Peter believes he's got a record to uphold. I went out with him myself a couple years or so ago, and he dumped me out of nowhere one day." Christina, still skeptical, watched Allison's face grow troubled. "I cried for a week, because I really liked him and I thought he felt the same way about me. But the only thing he was interested in was adding me to his list of women, that's all, and once he's won them over, he gets bored and moves on."  
  
Christina frowned dubiously. "All he did was take me to lunch, Allison," she said. "He hasn't looked twice at me since then. He isn't interested in me." She had no wish to tell Allison Peter had called her last evening. "And even if he is, he'll run screaming for the hills once he finds out what a wallflower I really am."  
  
Allison studied her. "Well, if you say so," she drawled, "but trust me, Christina, I've seen the way Peter watches you when you're not looking. He's got his sights on you, make no mistake about it. But as soon as you fall for him, he'll drop you and go on to someone else. Mark my words, he'll be dating Maura and Heather and Jenny before long. That's the way Peter is. He'll never settle down, so if you're dreaming about white picket fences and two-point-four kids, you'd better cast someone else in the role of Daddy." She patted Christina's arm. "Just wanted to warn you before you got hurt." With perfect timing, she got up just as Maura Gray and Jenny Anderson came into the room.  
  
'Yeah, right!' thought Christina. There was something about Allison she simply didn't trust, and her instincts rarely failed her. But then again, they'd been wrong about Colin - so it might not be a bad idea to find out if Allison had her facts straight about Peter Brady.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
The pessimistic mood Peter had been in on Thursday evening survived a good night's sleep, and he conducted his final training class in a manner that fairly screamed, 'Leave me alone!' Which his six students were all too willing to do, fortunately. It was a relief to end the class at lunchtime and retreat to his desk so he could eat the tuna-salad sandwich he'd slapped together that morning.  
  
A group of his female co-workers, on their way out to lunch, stopped by his desk. "You sure look like an ogre this morning," one commented.  
  
"I feel like one," Peter agreed tersely and glanced up. "Hi, Stephanie. Trust me, you don't want anything to do with me today. Have a good lunch, everybody."  
  
Stephanie and her companions wished him the same and headed for the door, but Peter was not to be left in peace. Maura Gray, one of his erstwhile students, approached him looking worried. "I hope I'm not disturbing you, Peter," she said.  
  
Peter looked up and resignedly put his sandwich down. "What's the problem?"  
  
"I'm not sure I really have what it takes to make appeals for donations," Maura said. "Do you?"  
  
"You did fine on the mock solicitations in class," Peter said. "Everybody gets nervous when they're faced with the real thing. Once you've made the first call, it'll get easier, and before you know it you'll be a natural. So don't worry."  
  
Maura beamed at him. "Thanks, Peter, that's just what I needed to hear," she said happily. "Uh . . . I know this is going to sound awful, since we're co-workers and all . . . but I was kind of wondering if you'd like to see a movie with me this evening." She caught the startled expression on Peter's face and hastily backtracked. "Never mind, I didn't mean to be presumptuous. I take it back. Oh gosh, I hope I'm not going to lose my job over this."  
  
Her demeanor made Peter laugh despite himself. Why shouldn't he go out? After all, Christina had all but told him she wasn't interested; so why not hang around with someone who was? "Quit worrying, Maura," he told her. "Just name the movie and we'll go. I've had tons of dinners and seen dozens of movies with people who work here. I guess since I'm single, they kind of feel sorry for me, so they try to include me in their plans. So yeah, sure, it's a date."  
  
"Great," Maura exclaimed. "I'll check the showtimes and let you know." She jumped up and ran to her desk, and Peter picked up his sandwich and took a big bite.  
  
Not ten feet away, Christina had overheard almost the whole conversation. She'd just been on her way back from the ladies' room and, realizing someone was talking to Peter, had remained out of sight around the corner in the corridor to the restrooms. So Allison had been right after all, she realized with a sinking feeling. Peter himself had said it in so many words! Thank goodness she hadn't committed herself to a date with him last evening. She was better off alone and she was more than capable of taking care of herself. With that, she emerged from the corridor and walked straight for her new desk, without even turning to look at Peter. Christina congratulated herself on avoiding another man who could hurt her, but there was a strange hollowness about it and she almost felt like crying. 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Cindy had always had trouble keeping a secret, and that hadn't changed even though she was now an adult. After Christina poured out her feelings over the phone Saturday night, Cindy went to Phillip and Jan's house on Sunday to help her sister decorate a bedroom for the new babies from China. She just had to unload on somebody, so she told Jan everything.  
  
When Cindy had finally finished her lengthy narrative, Jan regarded her with a suspicious look. "I hope poor Christina didn't tell you all that in strict confidence," she said.  
  
Cindy cleared her throat and said defensively, "Well, she didn't ask me not to tell anyone." But there was a guilty expression on her face all the same.  
  
Jan smiled wryly. "Now you know why Marcia and I refused to tell you any secrets, even after you started college!" Cindy made a face at her and dipped a brush into a can of pale-pink paint.  
  
"I gotta tell you something, Jan," Cindy said heatedly. "I'm beginning to think Peter misled me just to get Christina's phone number. I told him not to hurt her because she's still recovering from that guy in Boston who dumped her, but from what Christina said, Peter didn't listen to me. Imagine the nerve of him, going out with someone else when he acted like he was really interested in Christina!"  
  
"Wait a minute here," Jan said, putting down a roll of wallpaper border to focus her full attention on the dilemma. "You told me that Christina said he asked if she'd go out with him sometime, and she didn't accept right away. Right?"  
  
"Yeah, so?" Cindy prompted, diligently applying paint to the wall.  
  
Jan shook her head. "Then tell me this. Did you really believe Peter was going to sit around his place all weekend long waiting for Christina to make up her mind? Of course he wouldn't. I'm not surprised at all that he accepted another date. For heaven's sake, he's the family bachelor. Most families have at least one of those, you know, and Peter's ours. No matter what he might have told you last week, there's no way on this earth he's going to fall seriously in love with any woman. He just likes playing the field too much for that."  
  
"Well, then why did he try so hard to convince me he was going to be sensitive to Christina's situation?" Cindy asked. "If he really didn't care, he should never have fed me that load of horse hockey. And I wouldn't have given him her number either."  
  
Jan chuckled and turned back to her wallpaper border. "It's been a long time since anyone turned Peter down for a date. I think he needs that once in a while to remind him that he isn't God's supreme gift to femininity." That cracked Cindy up, and Jan joined in.  
  
"I see your point," Cindy admitted after a few minutes. "Maybe if more women said no when he asked them out, he wouldn't treat them so lightly, and maybe he'd have settled down by now." She frowned and dunked her brush into the paint can again. "But this way, he'll never change."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
All week long Peter was thoroughly perplexed by Christina's icy demeanor to him at work. More than once he tried to ask her what was wrong, but she refused to give him enough attention to let him get the question out of his mouth. Somehow she always managed to slip away from him, or find something urgent that had to be done immediately, or cut him off with a terse "I'm busy" that clearly stated she had nothing else to say to him. By the time quitting time arrived on Friday, he'd had just about enough. So when he got back to his apartment and found a message on his answering machine from his mother, advising him that the whole family was having dinner that evening at the Brady homestead in order to meet Jan and Phillip's new daughters, he decided he didn't want to be there. And with that, he promptly called his mother and told her so, in no uncertain terms.  
  
"Peter, what's gotten into you?" exclaimed Carol in a hurt tone. "What are you so angry about?"  
  
"It's a long story, Mom, and I'd rather not talk about it," Peter replied curtly.  
  
"All right," Carol said, and then her voice turned stern. "But you ARE coming here for dinner and meeting your new nieces. That's not negotiable. We'll see you at six." She hung up on him so that he wouldn't have a chance to try to get out of it.  
  
"Well, that's just great," Peter snapped out loud to the empty room. "I know what's gonna happen. Everybody'll grill me about Christina and why I didn't bring her with me. Wait till I tell them - I'll never hear the end of it. They never did believe I was serious about wanting to hook up with her anyway." He collapsed heavily into an aging armchair and massaged his forehead, hoping in vain that it would relieve his budding headache. What was it going to take to thaw out Christina? He'd turned down dinner and a movie with Jenny Anderson, even when she offered to pay for everything, in the hope that Christina would overhear and realize he wasn't dating around. Of course, Christina had been nowhere near them when it happened, nor had she seen Jenny stalk away from Peter's desk in an offended huff.  
  
Then he thought of Greg. It was just possible Greg might have some advice; he'd always had it easy with women. Resentfully Peter reflected on Greg's never-failing popularity in high school, which had sometimes interfered with Peter's love life because the girls in his grade level always seemed to be more interested in Greg than in him. On the other hand, Greg had often given Peter good advice on girls, and Peter couldn't remember a time when any of Greg's suggestions hadn't worked. He might as well get something out of this night with his family and see if Greg had any ideas on what to do about Christina.  
  
To his complete surprise, when he rang his parents' doorbell (which was necessary because the door was self-locking and nobody could get in from outside without a key, and Peter had forgotten his, as usual), it was Alice Nelson Franklin who answered it. "Alice!" he exclaimed, suddenly feeling better. If Alice was cooking, dinner would be worth whatever his family put him through. "Did you come up here just to meet Jan and Phillip's new twins?"  
  
"You bet I did," Alice said with a big grin and returned Peter's hug. "You're looking good, Peter. Come on in and see the babies. They're just the cutest little things."  
  
Peter followed Alice into the house and almost immediately spotted the babies - or more correctly, the admiring knot of Bradys gathered around the babies' playpen. "Hey," Peter yelled playfully, immensely cheered by Alice's presence, "you guys stand back and give those poor kids a little air before you suffocate them, huh?"  
  
"Hi, Peter," called a ragged chorus of voices in response, and the crowd parted to give Peter enough space to squeeze in and get a good look at Misses Melissa and Deborah Covington. To Peter they looked identical, with soft, sparse black hair, inquisitive dark-brown eyes, a tiny dimple in each miniature chin, and even two front teeth apiece.  
  
"How do you tell which one's which?" he asked Jan.  
  
Jan grinned. "Patty and I have no trouble at all, but poor Phillip just gets all confused, so I dress Debby in green and Missy in pink. They're both wearing red sundresses right now because someone, who shall remain nameless, didn't realize they were identical twins."  
  
"Oops," said Bobby, pretending exaggerated embarrassment, and everyone laughed. "Actually, you can blame Tracy for that. I think she's dropping hints at me lately."  
  
"You're overdue to start a family anyway," Cindy teased him.  
  
"Careful how much you nag us," Bobby warned her, half seriously, "or we'll start bugging you and Scott right back." He turned toward the kitchen and hollered, "Hey Trace, where's the food? We're all starving out here!"  
  
"Keep your shirt on!" Tracy's and Alice's voices bellowed back in unison, and everyone laughed. Actually, dinner was served just then, and Peter kept his participation in the mealtime conversations as minimal as he could in the hope that nobody would think to ask where Christina was. It worked only partially, as quite a few comments about Peter coming stag circulated around the table; and Peter noticed some whispered remarks that were followed by guffaws. As it happened, Deborah and Melissa provided enough of a distraction to keep most of the other Bradys entertained once the meal had ended. However, Greg and Bobby cornered Peter and talked him into following them up to the bedroom the three brothers had once shared, so they could have some privacy.  
  
"Don't tell me," said Peter with a long, put-upon sigh. "This is about Christina, isn't it?"  
  
"Huh?" said Bobby in genuine surprise. "Christina who?"  
  
Peter stared at him. "Whaddaya mean, 'Christina who'?"  
  
Bobby shrugged. "We just wondered how come you didn't bring some date to this overblown shindig, that's all. Greg here thought there might be more to it than that, since you didn't say much at dinner, and he thought you looked kind of depressed or something."  
  
Greg met Peter's stare head-on. "It's true, Pete, you look like something's really eating you. Why don't you cough it up?"  
  
Peter sat on the sofa bed that now rested where he and Bobby had once had bunk beds, looking up at his brothers. "Sit down someplace, Bobby, you don't want to wear out those legs when you've finally got them back into some kind of working order." Bobby shot him a look, but when he saw Greg nod in agreement, he sat down without further protest. Peter looked at Greg. "How come he listens to you but not me?"  
  
"Because I'm the doctor," Greg replied with a grin. "Now come on, Pete, quit stalling. Let's hear it."  
  
Peter sighed again, his levity dissipating. "Well, I was gonna ask you for some advice anyway," he told Greg. "It does have to do with Christina. I can't figure out what the story is with her. She's been giving me the cold shoulder all week for some reason, and she won't talk to me even to tell me what I did to offend her so much. I even turned down a date with Jenny Anderson to show her I mean business, but I guess she wasn't even around to see Jenny ask, so she didn't see me say no."  
  
Greg's eyebrows had popped up about three inches during this narrative; Bobby's face was alive with disbelief. "Are you talking about Christina Jensen? Our brother-in-law Scott's sister? The one you mentioned two weeks ago?"  
  
"You don't have to act so astounded," Peter said, annoyed.  
  
But Bobby seemed to be on a roll. To Greg he said, "This has to be some kind of record. Pete's never been interested in a girl for more than a week or so at a time. Somebody call the TV stations and let them know Pete Brady still wants the same girl two weeks in a row."  
  
Greg stifled a snicker at Bobby's clowning around when he saw Peter's murderous expression. "Can it, Bobby, you know Pete's had a few serious relationships before. Remember Valerie? That lasted almost two years."  
  
"Yeah, well, look where it ended up," Bobby pointed out. "Same place all his other, shorter relationships have ended up. Face it, Pete, you've dated too many women on a short-term basis for me to believe you're really interested in just one. Scott or Cindy must've told her all about you and now she knows better than to fall into your clutches." He snickered at his own wit.  
  
Peter was so angry by now that he could no longer control his temper. "You know, Bobby, you're a perfect example of what I've been thinking all evening," he roared. "I finally meet a woman I really want to take the time to get to know and build a real, solid relationship with, and my own past rears up and bites me in my butt. It's gotten so bad that nobody's taking me seriously. Jan's teased me, you're teasing me, Greg thinks it's funny, Cindy thinks I'm not good enough for Christina, and Marcia busted a gut when Wally said P stands for 'philanderer' instead of 'Peter'. I'm afraid to tell Mom and Dad about her now, in case they think she's just another way for me to kill a few Friday nights. And if that little loudmouth Mickey breathes another word about harems, I'm gonna punch his miniature lights out. You can quote me on that." Greg and Bobby gaped at Peter while he paced the room, still ranting. "I know Cindy's friends with Christina, and you'd think she'd put in a good word for me, but no. Instead she gives me the third degree every time I see her. Cindy knows something and she isn't telling me. Does she really think I'm a worthless cad?"  
  
Greg looked a bit alarmed by now. "I think we ought to bring Cindy into this and get her side of it," he said. "Maybe she can fill in the missing links."  
  
"I'll get her," Bobby volunteered. He pushed himself out of his chair, grabbed his cane and headed for the door in a surprisingly fast gait punctuated by a pronounced limp.  
  
When he'd left, Greg gave an approving nod. "Bobby's making great progress. Pretty soon he won't need that cane anymore."  
  
Peter snorted. "Progress, my hind leg. He just wanted to get out of here before I strangled him."  
  
Greg laughed. "Ease up, Pete. Let's see what Cindy has to say."  
  
Several minutes later Bobby returned with Cindy in tow. "Okay, here she is," he said to Peter once he'd cleared the door. "Now maybe you'll get off my back."  
  
"What's going on?" Cindy asked, perplexed.  
  
Greg explained, "Pete says you've been taking Christina's side in this whole dating thing. I guess the family's been doing a little too much teasing, and he's had it. And I think he has a particular bone to pick with you, since Christina's your friend."  
  
"Oh, I see," said Cindy. She turned to face Peter. "What's the problem?"  
  
"What'd you tell Christina to make her treat me like an escaped serial killer?" Peter wanted to know.  
  
"I didn't say anything to her," Cindy defended herself. "However Christina's treating you, it's her decision, not mine. But maybe if you quit dating other women, she might talk to you again."  
  
"I'm not dating any other women!" Peter shouted, at the end of his rope. "Can't she see that?"  
  
"Not according to what she told me," Cindy shot back. "She said you went out with Maura Gray last Friday. She overheard Maura ask you to a movie, and you went right ahead and accepted. She said you even made a remark about how you've gone out with everyone in the place."  
  
Peter glared at her. "So that's why she won't give me the time of day," he said. "It would've been nice if she'd been within earshot when I told Jenny Anderson I didn't want to go out with her, earlier this afternoon. Look." He began to tick off on his fingers. "I'm not interested in Jenny. Maura is only a friend. I didn't want to date Stephanie, Allison, Bonnie, Heather, Charlene, Julia, Wendy, or anybody else. I STILL don't want to date any of them. The only one I'm interested in is Christina, period! Got it?"  
  
"Why don't you tell her that, then?" Cindy said.  
  
"That's a good idea," said Greg. "Christina needs to hear it, not us, Pete."  
  
"As if she'll even listen to me," Peter scoffed. "There's no way I'll ever get her within earshot."  
  
"So what you're saying is, you're honestly serious about wanting Christina for your girlfriend, on a long-term basis," Cindy said questioningly.  
  
"About time somebody saw the light," said Peter. "It'd be nice if the rest of the family would try believing that for a change, and quit making snide remarks."  
  
"Well, think about it from our point of view," Bobby suggested. "Come on, Pete, even you have to admit, you've got one heck of a track record where women are concerned. We used to think Greg was the Love-'Em-and-Leave-'Em champion, but that was nothing compared to you. Here you are in your mid- thirties and you're still acting like a college frat boy."  
  
"Greg, can you resuscitate this idiot?" Peter demanded angrily. "Because I AM going to strangle him!" He actually lunged toward Bobby before Greg and Cindy gained enough presence of mind to restrain him. "I never asked for your two cents, Bobby, so keep it to yourself!"  
  
"Quit pushing him, Bobby," Cindy said. "You still have this bad habit of sticking your nose into other people's love lives."  
  
"Since when?" demanded Bobby.  
  
"Since you horned in on a date I had with Rachel . . . Rachel what's-her- name, years ago," Greg told him. "It figures, I can't even remember the girl's last name, but I do remember Bobby making a first-class pest of himself and tearing a hole in the roof of our convertible with an umbrella."  
  
"I remember that too," Cindy said, grinning. "Dad was furious for days."  
  
"I thought we were discussing Peter, not me," Bobby protested.  
  
"So you can dish it out but you can't take it?" Peter said. "Hey, you two, you can let me go. I promise not to wrap my hands around Bobby's throat." Greg and Cindy released him reluctantly, both watching him. After a moment Peter turned to his sister. "Since you're here, you can give me the answer I'm looking for. What can I do to get Christina to talk to me again?"  
  
"You promise you're really serious about doing right by her?" Cindy asked, leaning toward him a bit and pinning him with a narrow-eyed look.  
  
"On my life," Peter said.  
  
Bobby couldn't seem to resist. "Cross your heart and hope to die?"  
  
"Shut UP, Bobby," Greg, Peter and Cindy all growled simultaneously. Bobby put up his hands in surrender, and Cindy looked at Peter. "Okay, big brother, here's what you have to do." 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Ironic, Peter thought on his way over to Greg and Nora's house, that it had turned out to be Cindy who had advised him about Christina, instead of Greg. Cindy, who had seemed for the longest time to be a terminal case of arrested emotional development. Cindy with her pigtails and Kitty Karryall, her favorite doll. Cindy eagerly tattling on her brothers and sisters. Cindy telling every secret anyone made the mistake of trusting her with. Cindy trying to get dates at age eight, reading Marcia's diary at age twelve. It wasn't till she started junior high school that she'd finally lost the silly pigtails, and two more years before she began acting like a typical teenager. The problem was that it had taken her so long to outgrow all the usual childish quirks and foibles, most of the family had expected her to be "the youngest one in curls" long after she'd finished college. Even Carol had been a bit startled to realize that Cindy actually had ruler-straight hair just like Marcia, once the pigtails went the way of disco music.  
  
And now here was Cindy, married at last and handing out advice. Peter could only hope that the plan she'd given him worked. Jan and Marcia were still skeptical, and Peter didn't even want to think about what Wally had said; but Phillip at least had been diplomatic enough to give him the benefit of the doubt. And of course, Mike and Carol had wished him luck, as had Tracy and Nora. So he had at least some of the family behind him now; the next trick was to actually win Christina over and prove once and for all that he was capable of maintaining a long-term relationship.  
  
He pulled into the driveway of Greg and Nora's spacious, comfy two-story Colonial-style house and thumped on the back door. Greg's eleven-year-old son, Kevin, answered. "Hi, Uncle Peter," he said. "Want me to get Dad? He's upstairs in his office."  
  
"I'll just go on up," Peter said. "How's Little League been going, Kev?"  
  
"Okay, I guess," Kevin said without much enthusiasm. "My team's only in seventh place, and we lost the last five games in a row. Sure wish you could be coach like last year, Uncle Pete. That's the only time I've ever been on a winning team."  
  
Peter shrugged self-deprecatingly, secretly pleased to hear his nephew's praise. "I wish I'd had the time," he said a little lamely. The truth was that at the time, he'd belonged to an exclusive and very snooty dating service. In order to justify the enormous fee, he'd lined up dates with as many female members as he possibly could before the service staff finally caught on and informed him they were revoking his membership. His siblings and Wally had had a field day with that episode.  
  
"I think it's Jeff Barrister's fault," Kevin confided. "His dad's coach this year, so Jeff gets away with everything. He's a slacker and I think he's the reason we keep losing."  
  
"You have my sympathies," Peter said with utmost sincerity. "See ya, Kev. And good luck."  
  
"We're gonna need it," Kevin predicted gloomily and veered off to his own room while Peter went down the upstairs hallway to a bedroom that Greg had turned into a small office. Greg turned when Peter paused in the doorway.  
  
"Hi, Pete, what's up?" Greg inquired.  
  
"I just wanted to ask your opinion on this," said Peter and produced a folded piece of paper from his jeans pocket, handing it to his brother.  
  
"What's this?" Greg asked, accepting it.  
  
"The first part of Cindy's plan for Christina and me," Peter told him.  
  
"I don't get it," Greg said, unfolding the paper.  
  
Peter sighed and admitted sheepishly, "It's a script." At sight of Greg's incredulous look, he said defensively, "Well, it was Cindy's idea. She told me that on my next day off, when Christina's at work, I should call her number and leave a message. Cindy even gave me some ideas about what I should say, and I wrote them down so I wouldn't forget. And while I was at it, I figured it couldn't hurt to turn it into a script, so I could just read it off and I wouldn't sound like some dumb moron who doesn't know what to say."  
  
"Well, I guess I can understand that, but why leave a message? Why not just talk directly to her?"  
  
"Because," Peter admitted reluctantly, "she'd probably hang up on me."  
  
"Okay, if you say so," Greg mumbled dubiously, but he read through the piece anyway. "I guess this is as good an idea as any. Looks to me like it'll do."  
  
"Great, thanks, Greg," Peter said, taking back the paper, folding it again and stuffing it into his pocket. Then he paused and looked curiously at his brother. "I know Cindy chased you and Bobby out of the room the other night at Mom and Dad's, before she told me what to do about Christina," he said, "but I sort of thought you'd find out all about it eventually. You mean Cindy didn't tell you?"  
  
"No, she didn't breathe a word," Greg replied. "Why?"  
  
Peter chuckled. "I guess I just have a hard time imagining Cindy keeping a secret."  
  
Greg grinned and said, "I know what you mean. Well, good luck."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Having gained Greg's seal of approval, Peter fortified himself with a large mug of coffee and a ten-minute pep talk to himself before he sat in his creaky, comfy old armchair and regarded the phone. The light on the answering machine seemed to be giving him the evil eye. "Mind your own business," Peter told it rudely, thinking even as he said it that this girl was driving him batty enough to talk to machines and she'd better be worth it. He grabbed the receiver and punched out Christina's number before he lost his nerve again.  
  
He smoothed out his one-page script as her phone rang, and he took a couple of long, deep breaths while he sat through her answering-machine message. When it beeped, he jumped right in, giving himself no time to chicken out. " 'Hi, Christina, it's Peter Brady,' " he read. " 'I know I'm about as welcome around you now as a flea-infested dog, but please give me a chance to apologize for upsetting you week before last. Maura Gray is just a friend and no more. When I told her I go out with people at work all the time, I meant guys too. Fred and Tim and I've been to the local sports bar so many times they know us by name over there, and I've gone bowling and to ball games with Jack and Andy countless times. I'm friends with most of the guys at work. And okay, maybe I've dated a lot of the girls, but most of them were just interested in hanging out with somebody so they didn't have to sit at home and be bored. I'd say 95 percent of them were one-shot deals and we're all just buddies. And I'll have you know that I really ticked off Jenny Anderson when I told her I wasn't interested in going out with her. Too bad for Jenny, because you're the one I really want to be with. Please give me another chance, Christina. You won't be sorry, I promise. If you accept my apology, meet me for lunch at the Chinese place next door to work tomorrow noon, okay? Thanks, and good night.' " And he hung up. He'd followed his script word for word. Now he had to hope it would work.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"And did it?" inquired Cindy on Wednesday evening.  
  
Peter switched the phone receiver from one ear to the other and tugged out the phone directory, flipping pages in search of florists. "Well, yes and no," he said. "Yes, she accepted my apology, but no, she had already made plans to meet one of her sisters for lunch. So that kind of leaves me right back where I started. But it was a success, as far as it went, so I guess it's on to Step Two."  
  
"Right," said Cindy. "Send her flowers."  
  
Something occurred to Peter and he stopped turning pages. "Don't you think flowers are a little corny?"  
  
"Not for Christina," Cindy said. "There's something else you should know about her, Peter. She's kind of down on herself. You remember Scott said she's always been shy and afraid of people. She thinks she's not worth the kind of attention most guys would give their girlfriends. She told me once that she hated Valentine's Day and co-workers' birthdays, because everyone else always got these humongous bouquets, and she didn't. She felt left out. I'll bet you your next paycheck that nobody ever sent her flowers before, so you could really make her day."  
  
"Hmm," Peter mused. "In that case, I'll send her the biggest bouquet I can afford."  
  
"Well, don't empty your wallet," Cindy advised. "You want to be able to afford Step Three when that comes up. Try sending her tulips - they're her favorite flower. Save the roses for the really heavy romantic stuff."  
  
"Gotcha," Peter said. "Thanks for the help, Cindy. I'll keep you posted."  
  
"You do that," said Cindy. "You're my brother, and she's both my friend and my sister-in-law. I want to see both of you happy."  
  
"You mushball," Peter teased her. "Thanks again." He hung up and ran his finger down the columns of florists listed in the yellow pages. He hadn't realized that sending flowers was such a large business; he himself wasn't in the habit of having bouquets delivered to people, except maybe his mother on her birthday. Come to think of it, he recalled Allison and Valerie and at least three other women he'd dated complaining that he must be a cheapskate or something, since he had never bothered to spend any money on flowers for them. But flowers could be a cliché, and he had resolved not to send them to anyone unless there was an excellent reason for it. This was about the best reason he could think of.  
  
The bouquet of tulips in a variety of colors arrived at work on Friday, with a bit more fanfare than Peter had really wanted. Quite a few amazed faces followed the delivery person's progress with the tulips. Trying not to look as if he were watching, Peter picked up the phone receiver and pretended to be having a conversation with someone, all the while peering at Christina. Her desk was some distance from his, but easily visible from where he sat; so he had the reward of the stunned delight that transformed her delicate features when the delivery person deposited the tulips on her desk.  
  
Peter grinned to himself. Success! He'd definitely made an impression with the flowers. Step Three was next week: Christina's birthday was coming up, and he had about eight days to think of something with which to top those tulips. It occurred to him to check with one of his sisters, but not Cindy this time. He needed something seriously feminine, and Cindy had been more of a tomboy than her older sisters, though Jan had had her tomboy period for awhile too. No, this would be Marcia's territory. Marcia was about the most feminine female he knew.  
  
So he called her that evening, hoping she'd answer and not Wally or Mickey. He was out of luck this time, though: Wally picked up. "Hiya, Pete! How's the Great Girl Chase?"  
  
"Same as ever," Peter said evasively. "Listen, Wally, is Marcia around?"  
  
"Sure, hang on just a minute. Y'know, I really can't wait till we've got all this remodeling done. That air mattress leaks and my back's been killing me, and Jessica and Mickey are about to murder each other." Wally's maternal grandmother had passed away about three years before and had left her turn-of-the-century farmhouse to Wally and Marcia, enabling them to finally move out of Mike and Carol's house. The place had needed extensive renovation, which had turned out to be a semi-permanent project beginning the day they'd moved in. "We had to get the bathrooms done first on account of the rusted plumbing, and . . ."  
  
"AHEM," Peter broke in loudly, giving himself a sore throat. "I need to talk to Marcia."  
  
"Oh, right," said Wally. "Sorry about that. Let me go rescue her from the little monsters." Peter waited a minute or two, and then Marcia picked up and greeted him.  
  
"Hi, Marsh. Listen, I need some advice. Remember Christina?"  
  
"Oh, Cindy's husband's sister?" Marcia asked. "Yes . . . but I didn't realize you were still interested in her. I thought Cindy said she wanted nothing to do with you and you'd moved on."  
  
"If you must know," Peter said wearily, "I'm trying to get back into Christina's good graces, and Cindy and I mapped out a plan so I can do that."  
  
"Wow," Marcia said. "You must really be serious about this girl."  
  
"You don't know the half of what I've been through with everybody in regard to Christina," Peter said grimly, "and I have to tell you that that includes Wally. I came within an inch of beating Bobby senseless last week after he ragged me, and I'm not above mass murder if I think it's necessary. So just give me a break and help me out here."  
  
"All right, all right, stop the threats," Marcia gave in with a weary sigh. "I hear my kids sling enough death threats at each other as it is. I'll do my best to help. What's the problem?"  
  
"Christina's birthday is coming up a week from tomorrow, and I want to give her something really nice and in good taste. I thought you could give me some ideas. All I could think of was more flowers, or maybe some jewelry, but I don't want to be run-of-the-mill. I want to stand out and really impress her with my originality," Peter explained.  
  
"Originality, huh?" Marcia mused. "Well, Pete, I tell you what. Right now I can barely think. We're in an uproar around here, and Mickey and Jessica are doing their utmost to send me to the insane asylum. But if you think you can stand the dust and the noise, not to mention the kids' endless arguments, why don't you come over for some lunch."  
  
Peter hesitated. "Couldn't I meet you someplace? I mean . . . at least we'd have some privacy." He didn't want to be so tactless as to come out and say that he preferred Wally be kept out of the loop due to his big mouth.  
  
"As long as you're buying," Marcia said.  
  
Peter had to laugh. "Well, seeing as you're going through the wringer, I guess you deserve a break. Okay, you name the place and we'll have a nice long lunch there and do some brainstorming. I really appreciate this, Marcia."  
  
"No problem." Marcia yawned loudly, and just then Jessica began screaming in the background about how Mickey had just stolen her stuffed unicorn. "Oh, no. Here we go again, round ten thousand, six hundred and fifty- three. See you tomorrow if I live through this."  
  
"Good luck," Peter chuckled and hung up. Once Marcia got some sleep, she should be good for some truly intriguing ideas.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
In fact, Marcia had one excellent idea, right off the bat. "What kind of ancestry does Christina have?" she asked. "If you don't know, we'll give Cindy a call and check with her."  
  
"Actually, I do know. Her great-grandparents came over from Denmark," Peter said. "How come?"  
  
"Good," said Marcia, big blue eyes lighting with excitement. "I figured she was Scandinavian, from her surname. I know a really nice gift shop that sells wonderful Scandinavian souvenirs. Why don't we go there and look for something, and we'll have lunch after that?"  
  
Peter agreed, and they found the shop and began to search through it. Marcia wandered off to look at textiles, while Peter began collecting such mundanities as keychains, miniature red-and-white Danish-flag windsocks, magnets in the shape of maps of the country, and a bumper sticker reading DANES HAVE MORE FUN. He was about to go inspect baseball caps when he bumped into Marcia, who stared at the pile of odds and ends he was carrying.  
  
"You gotta be kidding," Marcia said after a long moment.  
  
"Well, it's just some little stuff," Peter began.  
  
Marcia shook her head. "No. No way, Peter. Aren't you the one who was trying to outdo yourself after sending her flowers? I hate to tell you this, but keychains and bumper stickers aren't gonna cut it. If you really want to make an impression on Christina, get rid of that and come with me. I know exactly what you can give her."  
  
Peter followed her to a section of the store where Norwegian and Icelandic sweaters, Swedish glass and Finnish place mats were on display. "Look," said Marcia and lifted up a length of delicate snow-white lace. "Curtains. These are hand-tatted in Denmark and they'll be absolutely perfect."  
  
Peter eyed the price tag. "I'm gonna have to break the bank for this."  
  
Marcia gave him a reproving look. "If you don't think she's worth spending time and money in choosing a really nice and tasteful gift," she said pointedly, "then go ahead and give her that windsock and a pile of magnets. It's your call."  
  
"Well, maybe I could wrap the lace around a coffee mug that says DENMARK on it," Peter said, examining the lace and missing Marcia's eye-roll of disgust.  
  
"You are soooooo predictable," Marcia said. "Look, if you need help paying for these, I'll split the cost with you, but you have to trust me on this. She'll love them. In fact, if they ever get done fixing up my kitchen, I'm coming back here and getting some of these for myself."  
  
"Okay, okay," Peter capitulated. "Never mind with the money, Marsh, but thanks for the offer. All right, I'll get her the curtains. But I really think she'd get a kick out of a coffee mug."  
  
Marcia laughed. "Okay, if you're so sure, then get one. While you're at it, big spender, have this place wrap it. And get her a pretty card too. No point in getting a nice present and then putting it in cheap wrapping paper and forgetting the birthday card."  
  
"Are you enjoying spending my money?" Peter asked her, and Marcia grinned at him.  
  
"Immensely," she assured him. "Get the mug and card, and let's get it wrapped."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Peter still felt too chicken to approach Christina directly and hand his gift right to her, so he waited till he saw her take a bathroom break on the day of her birthday and then sneaked the present onto her desk. He was about to turn and leave when Allison Caine passed him on the way for a bathroom break of her own. "What's that?" she demanded, spotting the present immediately.  
  
"Something for Christina," Peter replied. Allison had given him enough grief after their breakup that he had been wary of her ever since, and with good reason. He'd had to change his phone number after enduring a month of persistent calls from her.  
  
"Oh, really," Allison retorted sarcastically. "What is it, her birthday or something?"  
  
"As a matter of fact, yes," Peter replied. "Excuse me, Allison, I think I hear my phone ringing." He headed for his desk, hoping to end the whole thing right there.  
  
But she followed him. "You never did that for me on my birthday. And you never sent me flowers, either."  
  
"Allison, we dated for five weeks!" Peter said, annoyed. "Your birthday didn't come till months after we split up."  
  
"You still could've sent me flowers," Allison pouted. "What's so special about this girl that you're sending her huge bouquets of tulips and buying her birthday presents? Why didn't you ever feel that way about me?"  
  
"For one thing," Peter told her, turning abruptly to glare at her and trying hard to keep his voice down, "you're a little too grabby for me. If you'll remember, one reason I dumped you was because you kept dropping hints about me buying you stuff I could never afford. And another thing - you've been nagging me off and on for two solid years. The phone calls, the catty remarks, the clinging personality, the constant begging for another date when you know I have no interest in you except as a friend. If it doesn't stop, Allison, I'll bring it to the attention of someone who can do something about it. Now just get off my back, will you?"  
  
Allison stood stunned for a long moment, then turned and ran for the ladies' room, bursting into noisy sobs on the way. Peter blew out his breath and glanced at the two nearest desks, whose occupants were working very hard to pretend they hadn't seen anything, and then started for his own - only to find Christina there watching him.  
  
"Hi," Peter said, offering a quick smile. "Happy birthday."  
  
Christina gave him a startled look. "How did you know it's my birthday?" Peter opened his mouth, but she rushed on before he could speak. "Actually, Peter, I . . . I just wanted to let you know that if Allison doesn't let up and you need a witness, I'll be there. I heard most of what you said."  
  
Amazed, Peter gave her a genuine smile. "Thanks, Christina, I really appreciate that."  
  
She smiled back. "That's okay. I also just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry for doubting you before. You see, when the tulips came last week, some of the girls asked about them, and I told them you sent them, since your name was on the card. And Stephanie Burke told me that I was really lucky, because you're the nicest guy in this place, and you'd do anything to help a friend or even a co-worker. The others agreed with that and said I'd be crazy if I didn't go out with you."  
  
"Wow," said Peter, completely stunned. He couldn't think of anything else to say.  
  
Christina cleared her throat, and her voice dropped to just above a whisper. "Is the offer of a day at Disneyland still open?"  
  
"Absolutely!" Peter exclaimed and laughed. "You just tell me what day, and I'll handle the rest. Now," he added with a grin, "back to work, Miss Jensen." She chuckled.  
  
"Thank you for the flowers and everything else, Peter." She turned then and went back to her desk, and Peter returned to his own, spirits in the stratosphere. If the rest of the workday turned out to be a disaster, he didn't care.  
  
"Good luck, Pete," he heard someone say, and found his friend Tim standing nearby. "That's one really nice-looking girl. Fred tried to hit on her the other week and she froze him out, so when we saw you going after her, we started betting on your odds of getting through." He smirked. "Fred's gonna lose a bundle now."  
  
"Oh, good," said Peter, "then you can pay for Christina's and my day at Disneyland. Just let me know when Fred pays up."  
  
"Fred's gonna blow a gasket," Tim predicted gleefully. "You know how he is, always boasting that he can win over any woman alive."  
  
"Well, if he doesn't want his reputation to suffer, he oughta check with Allison," Peter said and smirked. "She'll be about the biggest challenge he can find, and if he can tame her, the whole world would be a lot better off." He reflected privately that it would help keep Allison out of his own hair; he'd probably need all the help, direct or indirect, that he could get, because he had a feeling that Christina was going to prove to be more than just special to him. He had his work cut out for him: first he'd have to convince Christina, then his family! 


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Six months passed, and Peter and Christina grew closer with each week. It seemed that Peter's life, after decades of setbacks, failures and disappointments, was finally starting to get really on track. He was made supervisor in his department and got a nice raise out of it, enabling him to start setting aside money to buy a house. Christina, meanwhile, found a job as a legal secretary, the same work she had done in Boston. Even Allison Caine finally backed off; evidently she had taken Peter's warning to heart, for she kept her distance from him. (Peter's friend and co- worker, Fred, had taken the suggestion Tim passed on from Peter and asked Allison out. The two were playing quite a game of cat-and-mouse, but everyone could see that Allison loved the attention, which kept her mind off harassing Peter.)  
  
Christina had loved the Danish lace curtains, just as Marcia had predicted; and she got quite a kick out of her new coffee mug too. When Peter's birthday rolled around a couple of months later, she did him a favor by replacing his ancient watch with a brand-new one. They always made a date for either Friday or Saturday evenings, and after they'd been dating a month or so, Christina and Peter spent their first full weekend together.  
  
In short, Peter was high on life, to coin a cliché. Everything was going so well that he started to get stomach pains, which completely puzzled him. Christina urged him to see his doctor about it, and after a few rounds of her insistence and his resistance, he finally caved in and went. The doctor, to Peter's utter astonishment, told him he was developing an ulcer.  
  
"You're joking," Peter blurted. "I'm happier than I've ever been in my entire life. How could I be getting an ulcer now?"  
  
Dr. Matsuyama gave Peter a long, thoughtful look, and at length asked, "Would you mind giving me a synopsis of your personal history, Peter?"  
  
Peter thought about it. "Well, I suppose I've had sort of an eventful life," he said slowly. "My real mom died of cancer when I was in second grade, and my father remarried a few years later. I was one of those kids who are always trying to find their places in life. I kept getting fired from one job after another - a bike shop, the ice-cream place, the pizza parlor, all sorts of stuff. I tried the school paper in ninth grade and got booted off it after my science marks dropped. I spent some time in the Army, but they sent me all over the country and I got homesick. College wasn't anything special . . . it took me two years to settle on a major, and then I couldn't find a job that was related to my degree. I've had dozens of girlfriends and I've been engaged three or four times, but they always ended for one reason or another."  
  
"I see," said Dr. Matsuyama.  
  
"But my life is different now," Peter went on, leaning forward intensely. "I've got a great job, just got a promotion and a raise, my co-workers are super people, and I have the most incredible girlfriend in the world. I'm saving money to buy a house. I'm eating right, I'm close to my family, I get out of the house all the time and exercise a lot - bike riding, swimming, bowling, you know. I don't smoke and I drink in moderation, and I stay away from drugs. I even use sunscreen when I'm supposed to. So why would I get an ulcer only now, when I'm happy, and not in all the years before this?"  
  
"I'm not an expert in matters of the mind," Dr. Matsuyama observed, "but I do have a theory. Given your history, Peter, I'd say you've subconsciously gotten accustomed to trying one thing after another and having it not work out. So as you grew up, you learned to expect failure. Something in your subconscious is having a hard time accepting that everything's going your way now, and it's agonizing over losing it all. It might think that you'll lose your job again, your girlfriend will break up with you, et cetera. It sounds to me as if you've found your niche in life now. You've got a job you really enjoy and that you're good at; you have a girlfriend you're very much in love with; and as you said, you're able to save money for the first time. So what you need to do is convince yourself that nothing will take that away. And you can't do it alone; you need the support of your friends and family. Do you have that?"  
  
Peter opened his mouth to reply and then froze as a thundering realization slammed into him. Could it possibly be that . . . ?? He refocused on the doctor and breathed, "I think I know the underlying cause of all this, doc."  
  
"What would that be?" Dr. Matsuyama prompted.  
  
"My family," Peter said. "Not so much my parents, but my brothers and sisters and their spouses. I mean, we've all been pretty close, but I think they expect me to stumble at everything I try. I've been seeing my girlfriend for about the last six months now, and it took some doing to get her to go out with me. My brothers and sisters knew all about it, and you wouldn't believe how much they heckled me. They cracked jokes, they made smart-alecky remarks, you name it. Even now only one of my sisters really believes I'm going to succeed with my life and my relationship. The rest of them are just waiting for me to take another tumble. And if what you say about this unconscious thing - "  
  
"Subconscious," Dr. Matsuyama corrected gently, stifling a smile.  
  
Peter grinned sheepishly. "Okay, subconscious. Anyway, if that's true, then what it really means is that my brothers and sisters are behind this, uh, subconscious belief that I'm going to fail. They expect me to, and I guess something in me is programmed to live up to their expectations - and maybe my own, by extension - so I go ahead and fail. I've gotta find some way to succeed at what I've got now, so they'll quit expecting me to blow it again."  
  
"Sounds to me like you've got it nailed down," Dr. Matsuyama said. "Good, then you work on your family and keep me informed. In the meantime, your ulcer isn't full-blown, so you should be able to control it with diet. But if it gets any worse, call me right away."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
When he told Christina, she stared at him in surprise. "You think your brothers and sisters are to blame for this ulcer you almost have?"  
  
"Well, this is what I told the doctor," Peter said and explained to her the theory he'd given Dr. Matsuyama. "It's not really so bad with Cindy - after all, she helped me when I was trying to get back on your good side." Christina smiled at that. "But the others . . . well, let's just say I'm getting a little tired of being seen as the family black sheep, if I can be called that. I just need to think of some way to convince them that I'm not gonna screw up this time."  
  
"The question is, how?" Christina said. "I can understand, honey, believe me. To this day my brothers and sisters expect me to be the one who sits on the sidelines. It's so bad that whenever I open my mouth at family gatherings, they all stare at me as if the President's just announced that the South seceded again. So don't worry, Peter, I'm behind you one hundred percent."  
  
Peter hugged her. "You're really good for me, sweetheart. You're the best. I just need a little time to think about what I'm going to do."  
  
It took Peter exactly three and a half days to come up with the solution. On his way home from work he stopped for something important. It ended up taking him so long that he didn't get home till almost nine that night and thus missed a phone call from his parents. Mike's voice on the answering machine said humorously, "Guess what, Pete - it's another mass gathering of Bradys. Apparently there are several announcements being made here. One's from Greg and Nora, another one from Scott and Cindy, and Bobby and Tracy have some news too, it seems. Your mother figured we might as well get them all done at the same time, so we're having a big barbecue over here on Saturday afternoon. Don't forget to bring Christina."  
  
"Perfect," Peter said aloud, resetting the machine. "This fits right in with my plan. I'm going to knock this family on its collective ear."  
  
He punched out his parents' number on the phone, and when Carol picked up, he said, "Hi, Mom, it's Peter. I just got Dad's message about the cookout. Should we bring anything?"  
  
"Now that you mention it," Carol said, "I think it would be a great idea to do a potluck. It would save your father and me plenty of time and money on the food. But Peter, I didn't know you could cook. Or is Christina going to do it?"  
  
"I'm just full of surprises," Peter told her smugly. "When I was in the Army, I learned how to make tuna salad and peanut-butter-oatmeal cookies. So I can bring those, and Christina can bring her specialty, which is homemade chocolate-cheesecake ice cream."  
  
"Oh my goodness," Carol said, "sounds rich. By all means, have her bring it. And we'll all look forward to your cookies and tuna salad." Carol paused for a moment. "Peter . . . did you say peanut butter and oatmeal?"  
  
"Sure did," Peter said and laughed. "And believe it or not, Mom, they're really good. You'll see when we get there. What time do you plan on having us all there?"  
  
"Let's say two," said Carol, "so we'll all have a chance to cook whatever needs cooking and eat without rushing. Especially Jan and Phillip, with a pair of one-year-olds in tow. All right?"  
  
"Great, Mom, see you then," Peter agreed and hung up. Only then did he allow himself to grin widely. If his plan worked, he was going to truly savor his family's expressions. Maybe he should bring a camera and take pictures.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Peter and Christina arrived right at the stroke of two on Saturday afternoon. Peter carried two large covered plastic containers, and Christina bore another similar container. The place was already packed; not only were Mike's and Carol's cars in the driveway, but so were Jan and Phillip's minivan and Wally and Marcia's station wagon. Greg and Nora's car was parked at the curb, and behind that was Scott and Cindy's jeep. Peter pulled in behind that and remarked, "Looks like everyone's here except Bobby and Tracy."  
  
"I can't wait to hear what all the news is," Christina remarked, handing Peter his containers of tuna salad and cookies. "I tried to get Scott to tell me his and Cindy's news in advance, but he wouldn't say a word. And he wouldn't even let me talk to Cindy."  
  
"She probably wouldn't have told either," Peter said with a chuckle. "And if you'd known Cindy as a kid, you wouldn't have believed it. Back then she couldn't keep a secret if someone told her to keep it or die by slow torture. I guess my kid sister grew up."  
  
Peter was right; the entire Brady conglomeration was crammed into the backyard, and the grill was already heating up. They'd just finished greeting everyone when Bobby and Tracy arrived - and Bobby was walking without his cane!  
  
Everyone noticed just about simultaneously, and there was a hush so sudden and complete that it was almost funny. Then shouts and cheers exploded into the warm late-summer afternoon, and the whole family crowded around Bobby. Carol was in tears, and even Mike's eyes looked suspiciously shiny. Eventually the worst of the excitement died down, and the family gave Bobby and Tracy enough room to find lawn chairs and sit down with all the rest of them. "How long have you been going without the cane?" Greg asked.  
  
"About a week or so now," Bobby answered, basking in his family's joy. "I actually started trying it about a month ago, and I've been increasing my unassisted walking time every day. The doc thinks that by Halloween I can get rid of it for good."  
  
"He's really been gung ho," Tracy remarked proudly, squeezing Bobby's hand. "I practically had to stop him from carrying me across the yard when we got here."  
  
Everyone laughed; then Marcia asked, "So is that your news?" She beat Peter to the punch; he'd been thinking the same thing.  
  
"Part of it," Tracy said. "You'll hear the rest later when all the announcements are being made."  
  
"Oh, come on, Aunt Tracy," Jessica Logan pleaded, "can't you tell us now?"  
  
"Yeah, we can't wait that long," Patty Covington put in.  
  
Tracy grinned at them. "Sorry, girls, it's top secret till later. And nothing in the world is gonna change my mind, so don't even try it. Otherwise I'll tell your mothers on you both."  
  
"Tracy's so good with kids," Christina said wistfully, watching Peter's nieces giggling with Tracy.  
  
"Yeah, she's a nut," said Peter. "Not as bad as Wally. Tracy's a nut in a good way." He glanced at Christina and grinned at her look askance. "Well, Wally isn't a bad sort of nut. He just has a way of bumbling around and putting his foot in his mouth. He's not the most tactful guy I ever met, but he loves his family and tries to do right by them. And he's crazy about Marcia, so I guess that makes him all right, at least in my book."  
  
"I just wish I felt as easy around kids," Christina said. "I even took awhile to get used to my nieces and nephews. It's as if kids know I don't know what to say to them, and they avoid me."  
  
"Let's see if I can fix that," Peter said and crossed the yard to where Phillip was standing, chatting with Mike and Greg at the grill, and Marcia, Jan, Cindy and Nora were filling trays with tall glasses of lemonade. "Hey, Jan, can I borrow one of the twins?"  
  
"Go right ahead," said Jan. "You know how they love attention. Besides, it'll get them out of my hair for awhile. I'll never finish putting together my Caesar salad this way." Both Deborah and Melissa were clinging to their mother, each twin clutching an ankle. Peter leaned around Cindy and plucked Deborah off Jan's left ankle, lifting the surprised child high into the air and spinning around on one foot. Deborah laughed, and Peter whisked her off to where Christina sat.  
  
"This is Jan's daughter," Peter introduced her, "Deborah Covington. Debby, this is Christina. She's a real nice lady, and she'll play with you till your mommy gets done making salad."  
  
"Hi, Debby," Christina said, eyes widening with enchantment. "What a cutie you are!" She took Deborah onto her lap and began to bounce gently. It was an old trick, but timeless; Christina had never known a baby or toddler who didn't love to be bounced. Deborah fell right into it, giggling and squealing in delight.  
  
Jan, looking harried, appeared then with Melissa. "Since you've saddled poor Christina with one of these mini-tornadoes, you get to take charge of the other one, Pete. All I ask is a half hour."  
  
"They must really keep you on your toes," Christina said quizzically.  
  
"Oh, they do," Jan assured her, smiling. "But Patty's a big help with them, and I wouldn't trade my girls for anything on earth." She glanced between the twins for a moment, her smile lingering, then seemed to come back to earth. "Well, I better get to that salad while I can."  
  
They kept the twins entertained, now and then fielding comments from other family members and occasionally getting some help from the older Brady grandchildren, until nearly four o'clock when Mike finally issued the call to dinner. Wally and Marcia, Greg and Nora, and Phillip and Jan had brought along patio tables to supplement Mike and Carol's, and Scott and Cindy had brought a card table for the kids. Jan brought out the twins' playpen and set it near the older children's table, giving each girl sliced bananas and apples in bowls. Everyone else grabbed plates and plastic utensils and made a circuit through the kitchen, where all the food had been set out buffet-style.  
  
Mike waited till most of them had had their fill before getting to his feet and calling for everyone's attention. "Well, folks," he began, "this supper was delicious . . . "  
  
Mickey Logan released a loud, long burp. "Sure was," he said.  
  
Amid the poorly stifled laughter, Marcia said sternly, "You know what you're supposed to say, Michael Walter Logan, don't you? Let's hear it."  
  
"Excuse me," Mickey said, somewhat grudgingly.  
  
"Pig," said Jessica, turning up her nose.  
  
Marcia shushed them while the chuckles gradually subsided. When quiet reigned again, Mike went on. "Thanks, all, for contributing. I hear Peter's brought peanut-butter and oatmeal cookies, so that gives us something new to look forward to. But first . . . some of you have told Carol and me that you have some announcements to make, so why don't we start with you, Greg and Nora."  
  
He sat down and Greg and Nora stood up. "Well, Kevin already knows about this," Greg said, "and he hasn't quite decided how he feels about it yet. We were hoping for a warmer reception from the rest of the family." He grinned. "Nora's three months pregnant."  
  
Surprised exclamations rang out, along with applause. Greg and Nora sat again, and someone asked if they wanted a boy or a girl. Kevin's voice rang out: "If I gotta put up with a baby in the house, it better be a boy." Everyone laughed.  
  
"I guess we're next," Bobby said and stood up, then tugged on Tracy's arm to make her get up as well. "You've already seen one part of our news. The other part is . . . well, Tracy's expecting too, and she's almost two months along. So we're finally starting a family. Your turn now, Cindy," he hinted at his sister, who rolled her eyes at him.  
  
"Surprise," Cindy said and stood up, addressing the family as a whole but staring right at Bobby as she said it. "I'm also three months pregnant!" She grinned and sat down again as the family erupted into babbling.  
  
"My word," Carol finally said, loudly enough for most of them to hear. "Three new grandchildren coming along all at once. I don't know if I can take it."  
  
Peter decided, in the midst of the confusion, that now was the right time. The butterflies in his stomach had been growing into ever-bigger mutations, so that he figured now there were about twenty pterodactyls in there. They weren't going to get any smaller, so he might as well say his piece. He stood up, drawing everyone's attention.  
  
"If you say there's a baby coming . . . " Carol began.  
  
Peter grinned. "No, Mom, nothing like that. I thought I'd provide a little variety, since I have an announcement of my own to make." He turned to Christina and added, "Mine's in the form of a question. Christina Jensen, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"  
  
Christina looked as if someone had dropped a sledgehammer on her foot, but only for a moment, while Peter's abdominal pterodactyls struggled to morph into helicopters. And then she leaped out of her chair, overturning it, and cried, "Yes!!"  
  
"YAHOO!" Peter shouted, and that touched off a round of loud cheering and applause for him. If this didn't cure his ulcer and get his family to realize how serious he was about this woman, then nothing would. Christina fairly threw herself onto him and wrapped her arms around him; Peter hugged her back, thrilled at his good fortune.  
  
"The last holdout's finally gonna tie the knot, huh?" cackled Wally gleefully. "This calls for a celebration. Mike, you happen to have any champagne?"  
  
And so all the adults had champagne and peanut-butter-oatmeal cookies to top off the meal, plus a small bowl of Christina's chocolate-cheesecake ice cream. Peter presented Christina with a small diamond ring - the item he'd gone to buy after work the night Mike had called about the cookout - after which everyone drank a toast.  
  
It was when the Brady siblings and their spouses and kids began preparing to go home that it happened. "Don't you think all your former girlfriends are gonna be jealous?" Bobby asked Peter, passing by with a shopping bag full of Tupperware in which Tracy had brought potato salad.  
  
"Who cares if they are?" asked Peter, frowning. "They'll just have to live with it."  
  
"You just better hope they don't show up and stop the wedding," Bobby said and grinned. "See ya later, Pete."  
  
Since Christina was in the kitchen helping Carol clean up in spite of Carol's protests, Peter might have gone after his brother to pound on him, except that he overheard his own name and paused to reply. Just in time he stopped himself, because the word had been part of a conversation. "I hope this one sticks. Peter's been engaged before and it's never worked out." The voice was Jan's.  
  
Peter could see that Phillip and Jan were about fifteen feet away in the gathering darkness, collapsing the twins' playpen and chatting softly. "Well, third time's the charm, isn't that what they say?" inquired Phillip mildly.  
  
"This is the fourth time," Jan informed him.  
  
"Come on, Jan," Phillip said. "I really believe Peter's serious about it this time. Look what he went through to win that girl over. Why would he back out now?"  
  
"He was serious about Valerie too," Jan said. "He was all excited about getting married to her and then broke up with her because she made more money than he did." Peter had an overwhelming urge to correct her: he'd broken up with Valerie because, in the end, Valerie had proven to be more interested in her career than in him. But Jan spoke again, keeping him quiet. "Peter's really pretty insecure when it comes to women. It always seems like every time he gets really close to one, something turns out to be wrong and he backs off. What's going to make this any different?"  
  
Peter turned away and started for his car, shaking his head to himself. 'Nothing ever changes,' he thought morosely. 'The happiest day of my life and they have to go and spoil it.'  
  
He didn't get a chance to brood any further because Mickey's voice carried through the summer evening. "Hey, Dad, am I gonna have to get dressed up for Uncle Peter's wedding?"  
  
"If Uncle Peter has any sense, he won't invite you," came Jessica's disgusted reply. "Not after the complete lack of table manners you displayed this afternoon. You're too disgusting to invite anywhere, Mickey."  
  
"That's enough, you two," Marcia's weary voice said. 'She must say that a hundred times a day,' Peter reflected to himself.  
  
Then Wally said, "Don't get too excited yet, Mickey. First we've gotta wait and see if there really will be a wedding, and then we'll worry about you getting dressed up for it."  
  
Peter cursed softly to himself. He'd really thought this was going to do it; he'd even given Christina a ring, and that should have proven just how committed he was. Yet no one's opinion had changed at all! What was he going to do now? 


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Peter tried to hide his lingering anger with his siblings and in-laws, but as time passed along, he overheard too many conversations or even passing remarks that told him the rest of the family just didn't believe he was really going to go through with marrying Christina. His ulcer slowly began to get worse, and Dr. Matsuyama provided him with a prescription and a gentle suggestion that he might think about seeing a psychiatrist. Peter took the medication, but he balked at the idea of going to a shrink. The only person he told was Christina. "Don't you think we should let your family know?" she asked worriedly. "Especially your brothers and sisters - after all, they're the ones who're getting to you."  
  
"Nothing I say will get through to them," Peter said stonily. "I've always been Peter the Playboy to them, and I always will be."  
  
"They can't possibly think that once we're married," Christina said sensibly.  
  
"Just try them," Peter retorted. "Five years after the wedding they'll all probably be wondering how much longer it'll be before I announce I'm getting divorced."  
  
"That's pretty harsh," Christina observed, massaging Peter's shoulders from behind his favorite old armchair. "Do you really think they'll go that far?"  
  
"I wouldn't put it past them," said Peter.  
  
Christina sighed gently and went on massaging for a little while; then she let him go and came around to kneel in front of him. "Peter," she said, "what if you tell your parents? They've always seemed supportive of you. Maybe they'll run interference with the others and make them understand that their skepticism is getting to you."  
  
"I don't want Mom and Dad to worry about me," Peter insisted. "I'll deal with this on my own, honey. I've got to do it myself. Talking to a shrink about it isn't going to make it go away."  
  
Christina considered the problem for a bit while Peter lost himself in a gloomy cloud. "What if we set the date for the soonest we can get everything set up?" she offered. "I don't see any point in waiting around. Seeing us actually saying the vows should be enough, I'm sure."  
  
Peter shrugged. "I hope you're right," he mumbled.  
  
Christina, determined, went doggedly on. "And if it doesn't, I'll find a way to make sure they change their minds. I told you before, I'm behind you all the way. We're going to turn your family into believers, and you'll never hear another discouraging word again."  
  
Peter finally smiled. "Cindy was right - you're too good for me. I'm glad I waited for you . . . even if I had to date every woman in L.A. just trying to find you." Christina laughed and hugged him.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
They didn't make a family announcement as with their engagement; instead, they simply went ahead with their plans, letting only Scott and Cindy in on the date in advance. One Sunday morning, Peter and Christina met at Scott and Cindy's house so that Cindy could help Christina address wedding invitations. Scott had asked Peter to help him plant some shrubs in the front yard, and the two worked out front while the women sat at the kitchen table with fifty printed invitations, a few books of stamps, and glasses of lemonade.  
  
They talked about little subjects now and then, until finally Cindy focused on Christina and asked point-blank, "What's wrong with Peter? He doesn't look too good, and I think he's losing weight. Is he sick or something?"  
  
Christina's face took on a mask of anxiety. "Peter asked me not to tell the family because he wants to solve the problem himself . . . but I'm really worried about him, Cindy. He's got an ulcer."  
  
Cindy stared at her. "How'd that happen?"  
  
"Well . . . " For a long moment Christina wavered, then sighed and gave in to the urge to talk. "You've always helped us out, Cindy, and you're just about the best friend I've got. I know you and Scott are behind us. You see, he thinks the rest of the family's to blame." She told Cindy the whole story while Cindy sat with her eyes getting bigger and bigger.  
  
"Holy cow," Cindy breathed slowly when Christina finished. "I can see why Peter's so upset. It's true - the whole family has that image of him. Even Mom and Dad figured Peter was just not the type of guy who'd ever settle down. But I had no idea it was getting to him so much. He probably didn't mind the image before. But now he's got you - I really think you're the one he's been looking for all these years - and he's done running around and dating every woman he sees." She scowled. "What I'd like to know is why nobody's willing to change their minds about him."  
  
"That's what I'd like to find out, too," Christina agreed.  
  
Cindy nodded firmly. "Well, in that case, we're going to find out. You and I are going to pay a little visit to everybody else in the family and set them straight - " Suddenly her expression changed and she gulped audibly, sitting up straight. " - as soon as I finish throwing up." She jumped up and raced for the bathroom. Christina grinned ruefully and addressed another invitation.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
It seemed to both girls that they got the same response no matter where they went. Bobby hooted with laughter and told them, "Peter's always had a problem deciding what he wants. Why should it be different for him now?"  
  
Greg was sympathetic, but he and Nora were divided. "If you can get Pete down the aisle," Greg said, "more power to you, but I don't know how long he'll be content with being a husband."  
  
"Don't listen to him," Nora said. "I wish you both the best of luck."  
  
Phillip, too, thought Peter should be given the benefit of the doubt. But Jan offered, "I'll be more than happy to come to the wedding, but I honestly can't imagine Peter in a tux with a gold ring on his finger. Sorry, but his history just gets in the way."  
  
"If you really think he's serious," Marcia said a little doubtfully, "then I hope you're right. Peter means well, but he has a long record of messing up. I mean, usually it's not intentional, but he was never sure of success before and I don't know why he is this time."  
  
Cindy glared at her. "That's horrible, Marcia. Listen to yourself!"  
  
Marcia turned red but only shook her head. "I just don't want him to hurt Christina, even accidentally. Everybody really likes her, and it'd be a shame if Peter finds another excuse to back out of that commitment."  
  
Wally, of course, was right there listening. "Pete's a great guy," he said, "but it's hard for me to picture him all tied down. If he sets a date, then I'll wait to see if he goes down the aisle. If he says 'I do', then -- "  
  
At that moment Christina reached her boiling point. "You're the worst one of all," she cried, "even worse than Bobby, and he was pretty bad. Not one of you has a shred of faith in Peter. If that's the way you persist in looking at it, you might find yourself alienating Peter one of these days. We're going to prove the whole lot of you wrong. You just wait, Wally Logan!" She fled the house.  
  
Cindy paused only long enough to snap, "See what you've done now? I hope you guys are proud of yourselves." Then she rushed out after Christina, and found her sister-in-law leaning against the car with her head in her arms, crying.  
  
"They'll be sorry," Cindy assured her. "Don't worry, Christina. Scott and I know you and Peter'll make it. You two are perfect for each other. You'll be together till you're both a hundred and twenty-seven, and you'll outlive them all."  
  
"We're going to elope," Christina sobbed furiously. "That'll show them all. And when we do, maybe we won't come back, ever. Maybe we'll start a whole new life in Tahiti or Australia."  
  
Cindy grinned to herself. "Hey, I don't blame you for feeling that way. But geez, if Peter could just see you now. Having you on his side is enough for him - who needs that truckload of doubting Thomases anyway? Come on, let's go on home. No, wait - let's go to my parents' house. I don't care what Peter says, they ought to know."  
  
So they drove to the familiar house on Clinton Way, and Mike and Carol welcomed both girls in. "Where's Peter?" Carol asked Christina curiously. "Usually you two are inseparable."  
  
"Actually, Peter doesn't know we're doing this, Mrs. Brady," Christina explained a little shyly, her eyes still aching from the tears she'd shed.  
  
"What's the matter?" Mike asked.  
  
Cindy was still full of righteous wrath at her brothers and sisters, and she wasted no time getting to the point. "Mom, Dad, let's sit down. This might take a little while." Once they were seated, she went on. "Everybody else thinks Peter's engagement to Christina is going to end just like his other engagements did. I don't understand those idiots at all. I mean, Peter had good reasons for getting rid of the other ones, right? Jill just used him to make her old boyfriend jealous, and Valerie wanted to be a career girl more than she wanted to be Peter's wife. And don't forget Ellen . . . the aspiring nun."  
  
Carol winced with the memory and Mike chuckled. Christina looked aghast. "You mean he's been engaged three times before?"  
  
"Yup," Cindy said with a sigh. "If it had really been right - not just for Peter but for the girls too - he'd have married one of them and be living happily ever after by now. But it wasn't. Jill didn't really love Peter, and Ellen had a higher calling that she felt she had to answer. And Peter knew that if he took Valerie at her word and married her, it would've ended eventually. Valerie thought she wanted Peter, but Peter could tell that her career had first priority with her and she wouldn't have put all the effort into the marriage that she should."  
  
"You're right, Cindy," Mike said. "Very perceptive of you. Unfortunately, it looks as if the rest of the family thinks otherwise."  
  
"What they think," Cindy said hotly, "is that Peter just didn't feel like tying himself down and simply wanted to be free. They refuse to see him as anything but a swinging bachelor. They're so sure he's going to back out of this engagement that they've actually told Christina and me exactly what they think, and they weren't even remotely diplomatic about it. I've heard my share of smartypants jokes going around the family too, so I know it's true."  
  
"Well," Carol said confidently, "once they see Peter exchange his vows with Christina, they'll be singing a different tune in a hurry."  
  
"I don't think so, Mrs. Brady," Christina murmured hopelessly.  
  
"It's so bad that Christina's on the edge of telling Peter they ought to elope," Cindy said, "and guess what else. Everybody else's lack of belief in Peter has given him an honest-to-God ulcer."  
  
Mike and Carol looked at each other, now genuinely alarmed. "An ulcer!" Carol blurted. "And this is just from Greg and Marcia and Jan and Bobby being skeptical?"  
  
"I think it's been coming on ever since he met Christina," Cindy said. "Before then he was fine, but when he met Christina he realized she was his Ms. Right. And look at all the good luck she's brought into his life. He's been promoted, he's making better money, he's saving for a house, and he's crazy in love with Christina and wants to spend the rest of his life with her. And she loves him right back, just the same way. They're going to last forever, no question about it. But nobody else believes it and Peter knows it, and it's been eating holes in his stomach."  
  
"My God," Carol murmured. But before she could say any more, the phone rang.  
  
Mike picked it up, and his face went ashen. "What? Which hospital? We'll be right there!" He banged the receiver down and barked out, "That was Scott. Peter's in the hospital!"  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Scott's voice shook as he explained what had happened. "Pete and I were planting some shrubs in our front yard. After Cindy and Christina left, we spent the morning digging some holes and carrying bushes from the jeep to the yard. I had the jeep parked out front. Well, we had some lunch, and then went back out . . . and Pete lifted another bush out of the jeep, but it must have blocked his vision because he tripped on the curb. Near as I can figure, he twisted around, trying to fall so he wouldn't crush the bush, but on his way down I think he banged his head on the jeep somewhere. When I saw him, he was lying there, half in the yard and half in the street, and he was unconscious. He hasn't woken up yet."  
  
"Where is he now?" Carol asked anxiously.  
  
"Trauma," Scott said, glancing away. "When the doctors examined him, they found two marks that showed the impact where he hit. So I think he hit not only the jeep going down, but then the ground or even the curb when he landed."  
  
"It's worse than I thought," Christina said, in tears. "I thought it was just his ulcer attacking or something, but this has nothing to do with that."  
  
"Oh man, Pete's got an ulcer too?" Scott groaned. "How?"  
  
"Long story, honey," Cindy said, sighing.  
  
"I'm calling the others," Mike said grimly and rose from his chair. Within half an hour Greg, Marcia, Jan and Bobby and their spouses had all arrived, concern in every face. Greg insisted on conferring with the doctors who had examined Peter, and finally explained, "It's like Scott told you earlier. Peter has two heavy contusions where he hit his head. It looks like he's got a concussion, and it might be serious, since he's still out cold."  
  
"I need to see him," several voices announced immediately. Carol, who had been one of them, put her head in her hands and began to cry. It reminded her much too closely of Bobby's accident and how the whole family had spent hours in the hospital room waiting for word.  
  
Just as with Bobby, the doctors decreed that only family would be allowed in to see Peter. Scott, Tracy, Nora, Wally and Phillip accepted this without argument, but Christina was devastated. "But I'm his fiancée!" she protested tearfully. "We're going to be married!"  
  
"Family only," one young doctor repeated firmly, "and I think for now even that should be restricted to his parents. Sorry, miss."  
  
Cindy scowled at the doctor in frustration and led Christina to where she had been sitting with Scott. "Maybe Mom and Dad will have some good news," she said hopefully.  
  
After about ten minutes Mike and Carol emerged from Peter's hospital room, surprise in their eyes. "I think he's trying to wake up," Mike said. "Whenever someone talks to him, he mumbles and moves his head back and forth a little. Can't make out what he's trying to say, though."  
  
Marcia and Jan went in next and came back with much the same report. "He almost sounds like he's growling," Jan said. "It's really weird, you guys should hear it."  
  
So Bobby and Cindy took their turn. Peter lay still and quiet on the bed, but when Bobby approached him and said softly, "Hey, Pete, it's me," Peter moved and mumbled the way Mike, Carol, Jan and Marcia had said. Bobby looked at Cindy. "Can you figure out what he's trying to say?"  
  
Cindy frowned and leaned over so she could speak directly into her brother's ear. "Peter, it's Cindy," she said, slowly and clearly. "Everybody's here and they're waiting for you to wake up."  
  
"Mmmmmph," Peter moaned. "Grrrrrrrr . . . nummmmmm. Ssssssssee . . . grrrrrnnnnummmm."  
  
"Sounds like a Neanderthal," Bobby commented with a half-grin.  
  
"So do you, a lot of the time," Cindy shot back and leaned down again. "Peter, we're listening. Keep trying."  
  
"Sssssssseeeeee . . . grrrrrrrrrrnnummmmmm," Peter repeated, as if he'd heard.  
  
" 'See' something," Cindy mumbled.  
  
Then Peter spoke almost clearly. "Grrrrr . . . eee . . . nuhhhhhh . . . "  
  
Cindy gasped and straightened up, and Bobby looked blown away. "It sounded like he just said 'Christina'!" Bobby blurted.  
  
Cindy was beaming. "There he is, trying to fight his way out of a coma, and the first person he asks for is Christina," she said triumphantly. "We told you and told you - you and Marcia and Greg and Jan. He's dead serious about her. But you just wouldn't listen. I'm going to bring Christina in here, no matter what the doctors say. He's asking for her."  
  
Cindy bounded back into the waiting room with a dazed-looking Bobby trailing behind her. "Come on, Christina," she said. "We figured out what Peter was trying to say. He wants to see you!"  
  
"But she isn't even family!" exclaimed Wally abruptly.  
  
"WALLY!" That came out of everyone, and was followed by a chorus of annoyed "SSSHHHH"s from the nurses at the admissions desk. Marcia gave her husband a not-so-light whack on the arm. "Bigmouth."  
  
Christina rose hesitantly from her seat. "He really wants to see me?"  
  
"You bet," Cindy said. "I heard him myself, and even Bobby the Skeptic couldn't mistake it for anything else. Come on, Christina. You're going in, doctors or no doctors."  
  
Not only did Christina follow Cindy in, but so did Mike, Carol, Greg, Marcia, Jan and Bobby. Nora, Tracy and Wally might have gone in as well, but Phillip reminded them severely, "Family only."  
  
"All at the same time?" Tracy asked, frowning. "They're lucky the doctors didn't come around and stop them."  
  
Nora, who was a nurse herself, smiled. "I think it's for a good cause, Tracy," she said, "especially if what I think is going to happen actually does happen."  
  
Wally sat reluctantly back down. "I'll believe it when I see it."  
  
"No, you'll believe it when you hear about it," Phillip said firmly. "It wouldn't surprise me at all if you turned out to be the last person Peter wanted to have visiting him right now."  
  
Cindy pushed open the door to Peter's room and nudged Christina in ahead of her. One by one, the other Bradys crowded into the room and ringed the hospital bed, while Cindy tugged a very uncertain Christina along with her till both young women stood beside Peter at the head of the bed. "Take his hand and tell him you're here," Cindy directed in a whisper.  
  
Christina followed her sister-in-law's directions and leaned down to murmur into Peter's ear. "Hi, honey, it's Christina."  
  
They all saw Peter squeeze Christina's hand and relax, and a tiny smile crossed his face. "Go on," Cindy urged excitedly.  
  
"Peter," Christina went on, her voice soft and still uncertain, "I think it's time for you to wake up. I've been so scared and I want to be sure you're going to be okay. Please wake up and tell me it's all right. I love you, Peter." Her voice grew thick with tears, and one dripped off her cheek and onto his.  
  
"Chris . . . teee . . . nuhhhh." Peter sighed deeply, then his eyes opened slowly and he blinked. All the Bradys let out delighted exclamations; Mike and Carol hugged each other.  
  
Peter kept blinking, obviously trying to clear his vision. "Hey," he muttered, so that only those who were at the head of the bed could hear him, "when did you people get yourselves cloned?"  
  
Cindy burst out laughing and Christina kissed Peter on the lips, right there in front of all the others - the first time she'd ever done that. "You're back," Christina exclaimed, "thank God!"  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Peter was discharged from the hospital the next afternoon, and Mike and Carol brought him to their house to take care of him for a few days till he could handle things on his own again. By that evening he was getting a string of visitors who hung around looking sheepish for some reason. His brothers and sisters and in-laws all found excuses to linger, until Peter found himself facing a living room full of relatives. Christina, who had come to the Brady house straight from work, sat next to Peter as if bolted to his side.  
  
Mike came in from the kitchen with Carol, where they'd been having a light supper, and both senior Bradys stared in surprise at all six of their children and in-laws. "Didn't you people see your brother enough at the hospital yesterday?" Mike inquired facetiously.  
  
Bobby and Tracy moved to the floor so Mike and Carol could have a place to sit. "Well, Dad, there's kind of a good reason we're all here," Greg admitted finally.  
  
"Really?" Mike studied them and unexpectedly asked, "Stop me if I'm wrong, but could it be you kids have a little apologizing to do?"  
  
They all nodded, looking subdued, and Jan spoke first. "We've been laying it on pretty thick, Peter. Some of us worse than others, and I guess I was one of the ones who were worse. When you asked for Christina in the hospital yesterday even before you woke up, that convinced me you really mean to stick with her forever." She smiled. "I'm so sorry for all the grief I've been giving you both. Cindy's right - you two are perfect for each other."  
  
"Yeah," Marcia agreed. "Jan spoke for me there. I guess you were just waiting for exactly the right woman to come along, and she finally did. I'm sorry, Peter and Christina."  
  
"Nora was behind you," Greg said, "but I admit I kind of had my doubts. They went right out the window after what I saw yesterday. I apologize, Pete."  
  
There was a short silence, and everyone saw Tracy dig her elbow into Bobby's side. "Come on, Bobby, your turn. You've been the worst of everybody."  
  
"Except maybe Wally," Marcia put in with a meaningful glance at Wally, who was unusually quiet.  
  
"Sorry, Pete," Wally mumbled on cue, and Peter grinned.  
  
"Me too," Bobby said at last. "I've really been shooting off my mouth a lot, and Tracy gets on my case about it sometimes, but I couldn't get past the old playboy image. But man, if you ask for Christina even in your sleep, it's GOTTA be the real thing."  
  
"Well, good," said Cindy with satisfaction, grinning at Scott and then at Peter and Christina. "Now we can get these two married off, and Christina won't have to consider eloping, and Peter's ulcer will heal . . . and we'll all live happily ever after."  
  
"Eloping?" squealed Marcia, Jan, Nora and Tracy.  
  
"Ulcer!?" exploded Greg, Bobby, Phillip and Wally.  
  
"Happily ever after?" Carol asked Cindy, half teasingly. "Of course," Cindy said. "We're the Brady Bunch. We couldn't live any other way."  
  
So two months later, Peter Brady and Christina Jensen were married in Mike and Carol's living room, as Jan, Marcia and Bobby had been before them. Bobby walked free of a cane for the first time in almost five years. In time, Peter's ulcer healed . . . and Nora gave birth to a baby boy who was named Nicholas . . . and Tracy had a baby boy named Adam . . . and Cindy, not to be outdone by Jan, produced twins, a boy and a girl, named Stephen and Susan.  
  
"Disgusting," was Mickey Logan's word for all this unbridled happiness. "All these goody-two-shoes running around. I think I'm gonna divorce this family and become a Simpson."  
  
"You should," said Jessica. "You're as big a jerk as Bart, and you and Homer could have burping contests. We could adopt Lisa in your place."  
  
Wally smirked. "Mickey Logan, the Anti-Brady. Can't wait to see how he turns out . . . "  
  
T H E E N D  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
[Author's Note: All these characters belong to Sherwood Schwartz, except Scott and Christina Jensen, Deborah and Melissa Covington, Nicholas and Adam Brady, and Stephen and Susan Jensen. Since Robert Reed has been gone for 11 years now, we'll probably never find out what really happened to the Brady family, but there were too many loose ends left untied and that's my way of tying them up. Anyone else can feel free to write about Mickey, the Anti-Brady. : ) ] 


End file.
